Used To This Place
by Fashionably Stupid
Summary: In the reign of the Dark Lord, The Boy Who Lived is brought in for one final, brutal interrogation. Will he betray his comrades to save his own life?


Disclaimers and what-do-you-call-'ems:  
  
1. I don't own these folks, folks. Anyone who's worth his or her salt knows they belong to J.K. Rowling.  
  
2. I won't lie to you. I got the plot, the title and most of the lines from Closet Land, which belongs to Radha Bharadwaj. Get your hands on it if you can. Sure it's pretentious and politically ham-fisted. But, hey, it's got Alan Rickman. And Madeleine Stowe. Sweet.  
  
3. Please review. Revere or humble me, I don't care which.  
  
4. A quick, asinine pre-scriptum: The bits in // are Severus' thoughts (I'm sure the vast majority of you could figure that out), but they are only in //s because I couldn't figure out how to get my damned italics to upload into the system. If someone could lend me a technological hand, I would accept it most graciously (fashionably_stupid@yahoo.com). Now, onward. *************************************************************************** *  
  
Used To This Place  
  
by  
  
Fashionably Stupid  
  
*************************************************************************** *  
  
  
  
"I don't understand why you insist on being so difficult. It's not like it's going to kill you. Just..."  
  
He sighed a long, exasperated sigh and shuffled his papers around, even though the one he needed was right on top of the stack. He knitted his brow a moment and considered his next move: The document he was holding was fabricated and was so far from the truth it was practically laughable.  
  
//Oh, God.//  
  
He closed his eyes and rubbed the thumb and forefinger of his left hand together before putting on a forceful tone and continuing his...investigation.  
  
"Look here," he said, presumably to the boy who was bound to the chair in front of him, but he had been talking so long...his voice crackled as he prepared his next words. "I'm trying to help you. I was sent here to save you life, boy. So just...just look here..."  
  
"I can't. I can't look anywhere."  
  
"Oh. Oh, dear. I completely forgot."  
  
The blindfold. The boy was blindfolded.  
  
//God, how long has it been since I've looked at him.//  
  
Usually the blindfold made the process easier because it prohibited direct eye contact, which meant no fear of identification, and it also meant no fear of an attack of a guilty conscience later on in the evening.  
  
  
  
//I wonder what time it is..//.  
  
"Could you remove my blindfold please?"  
  
"I'd rather not."  
  
"But you want me to see something. Is it a photograph? Is it a paper? Whatever it is, I'd like to be able to see it. To see anything."  
  
"I can't run the risk, boy, we've been through this ten times. I can't run the risk of you reco-"  
  
But he was cut off abruptly.  
  
"It's not like I don't know who you are, you know."  
  
A long pause.  
  
//Oh...Oh, shit.//  
  
There was complete silence before the boy spoke again, this time with a slight smile, reveling in his interrogator's discomfort. It was a distinctly eerie expression, considering the black band that was still tied firmly around his eyes. It was like the boy could sense his captor's reaction.  
  
"It's not been so long...Severus."  
  
"No. No, you don't know me. We've never met."  
  
"You're not fooling anyone, *professor*," the last word was spoken with such disdain, it nearly made Severus' skin crawl, "But I never figured you for a traitor."  
  
"I am not a traitor, boy. There is only one traitor in this room."  
  
The boy laughed, a cold, hollow sound, more like a cough, and the exhalation condensed from the cold in the room.  
  
"Ah, but Severus, you forget: I have no one to betray. I am not a citizen here."  
  
"In your head, perhaps, Potter, but..."  
  
"Ha! So you've not forgotten after all. I'm touched."  
  
Severus continued, inwardly beating himself for...  
  
//Oh, God, betraying...That's what got us here in the first place.//  
  
"But in this world, boy, on this...temporal plane, you are, indeed, a citizen. I have your papers here. That's what I want you to see."  
  
But that's not what he had. Just before he has entered the interrogation room, he had been given a confession for the boy to sign.  
  
//Boy? He still looks like a boy...//  
  
Severus felt a surge of anger.  
  
//He still has that damned obstinate strut about him, like he'll evade the law. Just like a little boy. Just like a bratty little child.//  
  
But where Severus was, there were no children, there was no innocence. Not in this room, not in this world. Since the beginning of the Troubled Times had come over Europe, since the Dark Lord had won and taken over, everyone who had fought against Him had been systematically tortured and destroyed. Everyone was guilty. Guilty, guilty, guilty. Even the boy. Even the Golden Boy.  
  
//Not so golden now, Potter. Quite pale, really. Severus chuckled darkly into the silence. You should eat better.//  
  
The boy hadn't eaten since he had been brought here three days ago. As if on cue, as Severus neared the end of his train of thought, the boy spoke again.  
  
"Could you remove my blindfold please?"  
  
Severus' face softened slightly at the question. He obviously wasn't getting anywhere with the boy treating him the way he was.  
  
//You catch more flies with honey, Severus...//  
  
"All right."  
  
The false confession fluttered to the floor as he moved to remove the blindfold, watching the boy squint into the harsh light of the room. He watched as the boy's gaunt, slightly battered face shifted as he took in the starkness of the room. He shivered deeply from the cold, his little teeth chattering, his loose limbs shaking.  
  
//Oh, all right, already.//  
  
Severus walked over to the trembling child and took off the heavy woolen cloak he was wearing over his suit, wrapping it around Potter's shoulders watching the boy's shuddering cease. Severus himself had no problem with the temperature in the room. He had survived much worse in his days. Now he watched as the boy's eyes flitted frantically around the room, looking for some sign of rescue, some semblance of further comfort.  
  
//I swear, you give some people an inch...//  
  
"No one's coming for you, Potter. Your foolish little friends have all been destroyed,"  
  
//God, I love my job//  
  
"Except that lovely wife of yours. Or have you forgotten?"  
  
The boy hung his head in shame, his hands, cuffed securely behind him, balling into fists.  
  
//Oh...oh, that's lovely.//  
  
"Oh, yes, she's been making us all very proud indeed, Harry." He used the false sense of familiarity to forge that final, marvelously placed dig. "She's. Just. Perfect."  
  
And she was. Hermione Granger, once a useless little coward, had really developed a rather insatiable bloodlust once the option had been offered to her. She had been present at the executions of all of her former friends: Fleur Delacour, Oliver Wood, Alicia Spinnett, and the entire Weasley brood. When Macnair, ever the executioner, asked for any final objections, any reason at all not to do away with the worthless traitors to the Dark Lord, Hermione would just smile, wave, and mouth "bye bye." She was perfect.  
  
While Harry had gone into hiding, she stood up and vowed to server her Lord proudly and without fail. It was she who had brought Harry to them. She had found him hiding in a tiny village on the southern edge of Scotland. Had he left Europe altogether, he would have been safe! At least, for a little while. But some...what? Was it some sense of pride that had kept him on his native soil? What was there to be proud of? His precious rebellion had been crushed like so many ants, all of his friends were dead, and his wife had gleefully taken to suck the Dark Lord's cock in exchange for nearly limitless power.  
  
"Idiot boy," Severus muttered aloud, although he didn't really mean to. Not that he felt any sympathy for the little fool.  
  
//Why didn't you leave...when you had the chance?//  
  
Why, indeed?  
  
"Idiot coward."  
  
Potter remained silent. He had been completely unresponsive, uncooperative, throughout the interrogation.  
  
"If you just tell us...If you just tell me, Potter, if there are any more of you, I'll spare you."  
  
Another long silence enveloped them both.  
  
"I know that there are others of you. You think they're your friends, boy? You think they wouldn't give you up in a sparrow's heartbeat? Just give them up. You won't have to see them die, and they'll never know it was you who...disclosed their whereabouts. Just give them up, Potter. Give them up and you'll live."  
  
//I'd like to thank the academy...//  
  
  
  
"Liar."  
  
"And what if I am? What do you have to lose?"  
  
"I don't know what you believe in, Snape, but I believe in Hell. I refuse to lose my soul, even if you do spare my life."  
  
"You fool!" Severus lunged, backhanding the boy hard across the cheek, sending copious blood and a few fragments of teeth flying through the air.  
  
"Why don't you just kill me?" The boy's voice was like mush now. He sounded like an old man.  
  
"Because, Potter..." Severus sighed and moved in closer to the bound figure, "Because I like to watch you suffer. It really...turns me on."  
  
Harry spit blood in Severus' face. Severus just laughed, sounding like he was at a dinner party, sharing wild jokes with his closest friends.  
  
"Is that the worst you can do, boy? Is that all The Boy Who Lived has left in him? Just blood? No fire? No vines or...or tiger's teeth? I suppose you are mortal after all, Potter. I daresay I doubted it. I really did."  
  
He continued to laugh, leaning against a wall to support himself. He felt relaxed now, like condemning this little shit was going to be a piece of cake.  
  
"You know, I think I'd very much enjoy killing you, Potter. But, tragically, it's just not my job. Now, I'm giving you one last merciful chance to live again. I suggest you take it."  
  
"Go to Hell, Severus."  
  
Severus sighed. He hadn't wanted it to end this way.  
  
//Oh, I can't lie. This is going to be so...fucking...sweet.//  
  
"I'll see you there, boy."  
  
Severus snapped his fingers and, in an instant, the great iron doors creaked open and two guards stomped in to remove The Boy Who Lived to his dank little holding cell, pending death. Severus let him keep the cloak.  
  
Harry Potter was executed three days later in a very private ceremony witnessed only by Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, and, of course, Voldemort himself. That night, the night after the execution, Severus ate well, drank deeply, and slept like a newborn babe. Neither he, nor any other soul, ever gave the boy a second thought. 


End file.
